Xikou vicissitudes of life second day composition 600 words

Xikou is named after a large Xigoukou near the Yangtze River. During the Guangxu period of Qing Dynasty, the site was built, which was the starting point of the official oil road, tea salt and tung oil in Hubei Province and the once prosperous commercial port wharf along the Yangtze River. 1967 After the Wan Li Highway was opened to traffic, the annual rings gradually declined. Indigenous immigrants were built in the Three Gorges Water Control Project, and Laojie moved to Pujia 9 Team. The streets built are sparsely populated and empty, filled with tranquility, desolation and loneliness. Occasionally, I saw three or two old people sitting around the bench in front of the door, chatting about the past of old sesame seeds in Xikou. . .

After leaving for many years, I was walking on a country road in Xikou with my Nikon D7000 digital camera on my back. The road is covered with weeds. In a place where I walked as a child, I gently pressed the shutter and heard a slight touch.

Climbing the mountain and finally seeing the face of the old house. The carving of the mud brick arch and plaque has long since vanished in the slow fire of time. White walls, curled up in the wind and rain, patches of blue tiles, footprints crawling over moss, wooden beams eroded by wind and rain, crumbling. The years have stopped in this mottled desolation. The door was ajar, and a ray of sunshine shone in front of the dark room. It is yellow and soft, just like the elegant agarwood in soup and medicine, which attracts me to enter and seek a kind of mother's inner warmth. Dark and bright, so I walked carefully on the Tian Zige of the years, shuttling between the modern and the past of that time and space. Every step is so cautious, and the years are so fragile in this old house, like a touch and a word, I will come back.

Walking in the courtyard of the old house in the powder room, this ancient and quiet breath quietly wrapped me and made me stop and linger. Time is swaying in the old house, it floats into every door, every window, and it penetrates into every slate. Gently, I walked in the yard of this old house, walking in the light and shadow of the years. Not everyone who lives in this old yard has a house as bright as a mirror. On the contrary, the clothes hanging high on the roof to dry can highlight the peasant life in this old yard, which is very ordinary and real. . .

In the corrugated room on the roof, moss grows wildly, and several unknown wild flowers sway in the wind. The gray mottled old wall climbs up the unwilling lonely grass, which makes the lifeless old house yard glow with vitality. Generation after generation continue to stay in the old yard, although the outside world has turned upside down, still stubbornly guarding this dilapidated Xanadu, following the slow rhythm left over from a hundred years, leisurely counting the rings of the years.

At this time, it is difficult to see young people in the natural village groups scattered on the slopes along the Yangtze River. Nowadays, young people are proud of buying a house in the city. Thankfully, we can also watch those childish children dancing like butterflies, surrounded by the old silver wire in the sun. These old people support their homes with their backs that are no longer standing upright, and wait for this land with their old and rough hands, sowing in spring and harvesting in autumn. (article reading network: www.sanwen.net)

Standing on the top of Liangshan Mountain in Mada, from a distance, the peak of Wulongchi is shaded by pine and cypress, and the terraced fields below are green in the sun, and grass and wild flowers attract your attention. Yanshan Ling Du faces the New Tianshan Mountains. On the misty river, ships come and go, and there is a busy scene. The surging river north of the Yangtze River, which has witnessed the vicissitudes of the old street at the bottom of the river for hundreds of years, is still tirelessly singing the eternal swan song that never ends day after day.

Growing up on the banks of the Yangtze River, the asphalt road leads directly to the village, and the pier is still a must-see, which always gives people a daydream. The clouds are high and the wind is strong, the land is clear and the sand is white, and occasionally birds hover, leaving sorrow to be crushed in this river scenery and diffuse in this river wind. The bluestone steps under the old Castanopsis carlesii tree by the dock haven't changed for many years. The mottled walls, narrow ladders and creaking wooden doors of the riverside hut have been repeating the memories of the past. Who is she waiting for? Are you afraid that the old man will not know the way? The shop is still so simple, bamboo curtains, dustpans, these large and small objects are hung on the gatehouse; Wooden chairs and bamboo baskets are neatly placed in front of the store. These farm household appliances, like an art painting, are embedded in the dock, which makes those of us who leave our hometown to live in the city and accompany the Internet feel deeply.

Walking in Xikou Street, time never seems to flow away. Walking along Xikou country road, whether it is a passer-by in a hurry or a homecoming tired from a long voyage, you will find the ultimate destination of body and spirit in a romantic dream. The old house, the villagers, the tree, a willow tree, a meadow, a table of spicy hot pot, and a cage of floating steam are all so familiar and cordial, which are beautiful memories.

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